Words To Her, Words To Me
by Thirteenth-D
Summary: Prompt Fill for kathytakespictures on Tumblr. Sorry it's so late, I honestly didn't know how to end it. Anyway. Teen!Rizzles. Maura is forced by her English teacher to write to her pen pal every week. Little does she know, she gets a lot more out of it than a good grade.
1. Chapter 1

We had met during an assignment built by my AP English professor in junior year at Foxcroft School for Girls. Though 'met' is more of a relative term, I suppose. Professor Dale initially created the assignment to test her class' writing abilities, but for me, it evolved into so much more.

"Now, ladies, your writing partners will be students from another all-girl academy in, let's see," she brought her half-inch binder closer to her glasses-clad face to read it better before continuing. "Boston, Massachusetts." She snapped the binder shut, set in on her cluttered desk and walked around to the front of her desk to address the class directly. "Think of it as a type of Pen Pals Project, if you will." Mutterings erupted around the class as the students processed it all. I knew what they were all thinking: Pen Pals seemed so… childish, especially in our junior year of high school. We were all too mature for Pen Pals.

One of my better friends, Susie Chang, looked at me and snickered, gesturing slightly at the Professor as she did so. I smiled back, not entirely enjoying the notion of mocking the teacher, though also not liking the thought of writing to a complete stranger. "Now, now, class, I know it's not exactly what you would have in mind, but it really will help your skills. You'll be able to expand your English skills as well as make a new friend," she explained, waving her hand vaguely. More laughter and mumbles broke out as Professor Dale went on. "Yes, I know you girls don't need any more friends, but bear with me. And truly," she grabbed a pencil with a suction cup on the end and walked down the aisle between the desks towards Susie's and my own desk. She licked the end and firmly stuck it to Susie's desk before saying, with extreme sass, might I add, "There's really nothing you can do about it." She smiled as the class exploded with chuckles and soft 'oohs'.

"Yes, Professor Dale," Susie mumbled, smiling in jest at herself even though she was blushing profusely. I smiled widely and shoved her shoulder slightly before returning my attention to the Professor.

"I know it's cliché," Professor Dale sighed as she made her way back to her desk. She grabbed a coffee mug, swirled its contents and leaned her backside against the edge of her desk. "But you'll all pick a number from this cup. The numbers coincide with names on a list. Whoever's number you choose is the one you'll be writing for the rest of the school year." Again, the class groaned in protest, but Professor Dale paid no mind. She walked over to the desk in the top right corner and held out the cup. "Melanie, you're first, congratulations."

-0-

Susie and I were sitting at our lunch table, enjoying our school-made lunches as the girls around me whined about their assignments. It was apparently Susie's turn, and she immediately started off telling everybody about the Pen Pals Project she and I had been given. "And she takes out a cup. We drew _numbers_ from a _cup_, guys." Exclamations of all kind came from the girls at our table. Many were pity-like and a few were slightly teasing, but I didn't really pay them any mind. I was too caught up in the thoughts that swirled around in my brain. Thoughts on the girl I was writing to, thoughts about what we would write about, thoughts on if we would even get along well. It plagued me. How was I supposed to write someone for the rest of the year if I didn't get along with them? What if I'm the type of girl she would dislike in any other situation? Or what if we get along so well and become friends but then never meet?

"…Maura got the worst match, I think." Everyone's eyes were suddenly on me, and I knew that I had been caught stuck in my own mind. Little smiles decorated their faces and even though I labeled them as my friends, I knew the smiles weren't friendly.

"I'm sorry, Susie, what was that?" I asked softly, a weak attempt to save face.

"You got the worst match," she said, setting her fork down and wiping her face with a napkin.

"That's not nice. We don't even know her," I stated both to her and myself, remembering that I had thoughts similar to hers.

"But what we _do_ know is totally opposite of you, Maura," she pointed out.

Next to the names on Professor Dale's clipboard was a short description of the girls. It was composed mainly of generic things, age, two likes, two dislikes, whether or not they participated in afterschool activities and, if they did, what they were. I remember looking at the list with disdain, but not for who I picked, just for their information. I had gotten number 14, who apparently was a Miss Jane Rizzoli, 17, just like I was, who liked sports and being outdoors (neither of which I liked), disliked math and science (my two favorite subjects) and did many extracurricular activities. All of them were sports, however. So yes, I do believe we were the worst matched pairing in the whole system.

"That may be true, but you never know, Susie. We could become best friends and you could be replaced," I retorted quickly and with a smile, flicking a finger towards her, getting closer and closer to her.

"Please, Maura, you can never get rid of me," she replied as she stabbed at my finger with her fork.

"Like a leech?" one of the girls across from us asked and I immediately corrected her.

"Actually, leeches remove themselves after they're done feeding. A better metaphor would be chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. It can never be cured and if untreated it gets worse and worse as time progresses." My spine was straight with pride, but as time went on and I became more attuned to the awkward aura the table had taken, my back slouched slightly and my head bowed.

"Did… did you just call me COPD?" Susie asked with a bright, friendly smile upon her face. It wasn't condescending like the other girls', which was why I considered her my best friend at the time.

"I suppose," I muttered, still embarrassed and playing with my fingers.

"That's… pretty cool, Maura," she urged, nudging my knee with her own before curing the table of its awkwardness.

-0-

I don't exactly know what I was expecting when I sent the first letter, though it was probably immediate rejection. Because of our outstanding differences, I most likely believed that we wouldn't ever get along. Though now I suppose that our differences led us to be quite an interesting pair.

The first few letters were, of course, awkward to say the least. They were too short and a little more proper than necessary. They seemed robotic and forced, though Jane pointed out that they only felt that way because they were forced, therefore making our feelings towards the letters robotic. Thankfully, during the awkward stalemate in which we were doing everything we could to make conversation, Jane admitted that she enjoyed reading mystery novels. I think that's when we really started to get along. We would go on for pages about our favorite mystery novels and from then on we could always find something to talk about whether it was about school or our homes or just what we were thinking about at the time.

That's when I began finding myself thinking about Jane all of the time. I would be in AP Trigonometry class and start thinking about what Jane would say about this equation or mixing chemicals in AP Chemistry and wondering what Jane would say about how this solution smelled weird or this solution had a strange color. My mind was infected with Jane Rizzoli. What did she look like? What did she sound like? How tall is she? What color were her eyes? What type of clothes did she usually wear? What color was her hair? Was she blonde or was she a brunette? Did she ever dye her hair? Was she right or left-handed? My mind would leave no stone unturned and no question unasked when it came to Jane Rizzoli. To try and ease my thirst for all things Jane, I thought about the things I knew about her. I would think about her dog, Jo Friday, and her brothers, Frankie and Tommy. I would recall her baseball—she preferred the boys' competitiveness—team's name and colors and the score of their most recent win. I did everything I could think of, but nothing completely cured me of Jane. I could not get her out of my head and my grades were starting to reflect that.

I had gotten my first A- ever on a Trigonometry test two months after I began writing to Jane. When I first brought the test home, I was scared witless of what my mother would say. I was terrified of disappointing her and had actually contemplated taking a red pen and making the A- an A+. I was digging through my desk drawer when I finally caught up with myself. I immediately felt extremely guilty afterwards, to the point I was almost in tears. I had never done anything even remotely close to cheating up until then, so what had made me so ready to do so then? Perhaps, I remember thinking, Jane had something to do with it. Perhaps Jane's characteristic impulsive attitude had rubbed off against me simply through her letters. Perhaps I was developing rebellious attitudes through Jane.

I didn't care, however. In fact, after staring at the red pen in my desk drawer in absolute horror for a good ten minutes, I promptly grabbed it and a few pieces of paper and wrote a letter to Jane.

"_Jane,_

_I realize that I just recently wrote you and you probably haven't even received it yet, but I just needed to talk to you. You see, I've been abnormally distracted lately, especially during my classes, and I would like you to know that the distraction is you. It's not a necessarily bad distraction, but I find it quite hard to get past the thought of you. When I'm supposed to be taking notes in AP History, I'm thinking about what you look like. When I'm supposed to be measuring liquids correctly in AP Chemistry, I'm wondering whether you're right or left-handed. When I'm supposed to be solving equations in AP Trigonometry, I'm planning my next letter to you. I try to placate my thoughts with things I already know, but I just can't let it go and I don't know why._

_I want to know more about you. I want to know about your thoughts, not just about school or people in general, but about life and philosophy and whatever else may cross your mind. I want to know what you're afraid of and what makes you happy. I want to know why you seem so rebellious to me. I want to know why the mere thought of your upcoming letters makes me anxious and eager and makes my heart beat in my ears so loudly it drowns out any other noises. I want to know why you're impulsive and athletic and why you hate school so much. I want to know what makes you work, Jane. I understand that it's probably strange to read that, and you're probably thinking that I'm weird for writing that, but it's true._

_I want to be closer to you, Jane. I want to be so much closer than I am now. However, because I don't want to scare you off with my insatiable curiosity, I absolutely will not send this._

_Sincerely,_

_What the hell am I thinking?"_

I stuffed the paper into an unused folder before promptly sliding it into a dark corner of my desk's small filing cabinet. I mechanically prepared for bed before cuddling in the comfort of my duvet. As tired as I was, though, I did not sleep that night.

I honestly only remember thinking about Jane throughout the whole night.

-0-

Jane's next letter wasn't a letter at all, really. Only two things resided in the envelope: a small piece of paper and a picture. It was strange at first, but then I looked closer at the items. The picture was small, wallet-sized, and showed a thin, lithe girl in a white and black baseball uniform. She had long, wavy black hair and sharp (and tan) features. She was up to bat in a game or practice—it honestly didn't matter to me—and looked positively flawless in her batting stance. I then investigated the paper. In her quick, seamless script, she wrote:

"_Maura,_

_First things first, the girl in the picture is me. It's the most recent one I have. It's from a practice my Ma went to about a month ago. You know the one where I accidentally hit the ball into the shortstop's shoulder and broke his collarbone? That one._

_Second, on the back of the paper is my email address, phone number and Facebook. I'm tired of writing letters back and forth in the 21__st__ century. It's a step back in technology and honestly, it's dumb._

_Third, that COPD thing is strangely hilarious._

_Jane."_

I blinked repeatedly before swiftly taking out my phone and adding her number into my contacts. I typed a quick text (_Hello, Jane, it's Maura._) before studying the picture again. She was… everything I had expected plus an angel.

"Whoa," I heard from my side. "And _who_ exactly is that?" My head shot to the side to find Susie leaning over her the aisle and invading my personal space. I wondered how long she had been there before hurriedly processing her question.

"Oh, um, that-that's Jane," I muttered, not wanting any more attention to _my_ picture of _my_ Pen Pal.

"_That's_ Jane?" She seemed honestly surprised at the fact and that was unfortunately drawing attention from others around us. "Just… wow."

"I realize."

"Like… I figured she'd be super butch, you know?" Susie snatched the photo out of my hand and took a closer look. I reached for it instantly, but she slapped my hand away perfectly without looking. I scoffed and slyly withdrew my phone from my bag. Unlocking the screen, I noticed the message notification in the top left hand corner of the screen and my heart stuttered slightly. I inconspicuously looked to see Professor Dale fiddling with paperwork before unlocking it and going into my messages.

Jane's message shined spectacularly on my screen and I internally squealed with excitement.

_Hello, Maura. It's Jane._

_I certainly hope it's Jane. I'd positively hate talking to a complete stranger_, I replied rapidly, typing faster than I think I ever had before. I softly laid the phone face down on my desk before picking it up and unlocking the screen. The notification bar was empty and even though I knew she wouldn't be able to respond that quickly, I still felt disappointment soil my heart.

"…Maura? Are you in the classroom or what?" Susie asked from her desk, tapping me softly on the temple with the pad of her index finger.

"Oh, yes, sorry," I responded.

"Wait, wait, wait," Susie's eyes flashed towards my desk and spotted my cell phone. Her face contorted comically as she processed the situation. "Maura Dorthea Isles, are you texting in class?" she yelled in a whisper.

"No, of course not," I cried, quiet as she was. "I am more responsible than texting during class, Susie." I looked away immediately and clenched my phone tightly in my fist.

As Susie gave me a look that clearly stated she was unconvinced, bumps began to erupt all over my chest and neck. The bumps got increasingly itchy and though I was trying to appear unbothered, the hives eventually won over. "Shit," I muttered softly as I began to rub at the hived. A polygraph was unneeded when it came to me; I could hardly tell the whitest lie and still explode into hives. Susie unfortunately knew this and used it to her complete advantage.

"Ha! So you _are_ texting in class!" she exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction. I glared at her as I itched my hives gently, careful not to penetrate the skin. "Who the hell are you talking to, Isles?" She lunged for my phone, but quickly stuffed it in my pocket furthest from her.

"Nobody you should concern yourself with, _Chang_," I replied, my face hard, but my teasing soft.

"Okay, okay," she muttered, raising her hands in defeat as she relaxed back into her seat. "But you'll tell me one of these days."

-0-

The days passed quickly as Jane and I spoke more and more. I learned more about her—more of her feelings towards subjects and people—and she learned more about me—more of my baby tortoise I was given when I was seven and more of my loneliness when my mother was away on business. We still wrote each other, if only to make our teachers believe we were still just Pen Pals, but more often than not, we texted or sent emails to one another. Then, not too long after we began texting almost every minute of every day, I realized that my curiosity was growing even more. Frankly, it was getting out of hand. I remember that my nights were often spent texting Jane rather than sleeping, and that emailing her suddenly seemed more important than schoolwork. Weeks would go by and all I would remember from them was a conversation Jane and I had. It was taking a toll on my grades, but I didn't care. After all, I still had a few months to bring them up. Not to mention the fact that my mother was barely home for a day or two before she had to leave, my grades the last thing on her mind. But as Jane and I spoke more and more, grades began being the last thing on _my_ mind. I began neglecting my schoolwork, my friends… the only thing I didn't forget about was my little Bass, and that was only because Jane reminded me every once in a while. I told her all of this eventually, and she admitted to the same thing, though her grades weren't as impeccable as mine, they were also dropping drastically.

_What should we do,_ I asked her as I sat at my desk, resting my feet on Bass' shell as he'd often let me get away with.

_I dunno, _she answered a few moments later. I slowly stroked Bass' shell with my toes as I began to think of a solution.

_Perhaps we don't speak enough,_ I sent, not entirely thinking.

_LOL, perhaps we talk too much,_ she replied. I could almost picture her saying that, with her pink lips poised in a sweet smile and her dark eyebrows furrowed together slightly in a teasing manner. My head fell back against my chair's headrest as I imagined her in my room, speaking to me instead of texting. Sighing in exasperation at my foolish thoughts, I returned my attention back to my phone. Jane hadn't sent anything back, but I had nothing else to say.

We didn't encounter these stalemates too often, but when we did, hours could pass by without a single text from either of us. Eventually, one of us would find something or another to talk about and we'd begin another conversation that would last us days at a time. It was normal for us and I liked it. It was like something just… _clicked_ between us and made it impossible for me to stay away for too long. I was an addict; condemned to keep returning to the object of my affection forever. I was being forced by an unseen force to keep talking to Jane, to keep learning more about her, to keep having everything to do with Jane.

_So, _Jane sent after a minute or two, _you're, like, a genius, right?_

_Yeah, I guess I am. Why do you ask? _I sent back quickly, my heart speeding up slightly at the thought of being needed, especially by Jane.

_Well, I have a question about something._

_I figured, _I teased, hoping she'd know.

A few moments passed before I received her next text. _What in the living hell in mitosis? _

I chuckled before spending the rest of the night engrossed in everything Jane.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Wow.**_

_**And I mean WOW.**_

_**I really was not expecting such a big response to this story. I mean, the first chapter got more follows, and favorites in 24 hours than 3 chapters of another story got in 3 or 4 months.**_

_**The Rizzles fandom in quite impressive.**_

_**So here's the second part of the story. Now I don't know how long it'll be, but I have so many ideas for it, so I'm guessing it'll be more than just three chapters.**_

_**If you guys have any suggestions or I messed anything up, just pop in a quick review or PM, whichever suits you best.**_

_**Oh, and before I forget, **_

_**A great big thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed and the one soul who favorited. I really appreciate it.**_

_**Honestly.**_

_**Enjoy the chapter,**_

_**S.**_

* * *

My phone shined brilliantly through the darkness that permeated my room. It was close to three in the morning and I was just a second away from falling asleep. With a heavy sigh, I lifted my arm to grasp my phone, which sat on my nightstand, charging in preparation for the following day. Or, I suppose, the upcoming hours.

I tore my eyes open slowly and unlocked the screen. I yawned extravagantly as I read Jane's—who else's?—text.

_So what do you look like, Maur? _I ran my fingers through my slightly ruffled hair and stretched my back whilst lying down.

_At the moment,_ I typed slowly, my fingers not entirely responsive due to my fatigue. _I'm sure I look extremely tired. _I pressed send, switched the ringer to vibrate and set the phone on my chest before closing my eyes. Not five seconds later, my phone buzzed viciously on my sternum. Already recognizing this as one of those nights where I wasn't going to get any sleep and would probably end up sleeping in the library during study hall and lunch the next day, I sluggishly rose from my warm comforter and set my feet on the ice cold floor. A quick shiver trekked through my body as I blindly sought after my slippers. Finding them, I slipped my feet into them and grabbed my phone.

I turned lights on as I made my way through the expansive and empty house. My mother was again gone on business and though I knew that the dark held nothing but mystery, I was still hesitant to wander through it alone. The last light I switched on was the one for the kitchen. I immediately set up the coffee pot and turned it on. As I waited for the pot to brew, I opened Jane's text.

_You know what I mean, Maur Maur._ I smiled as I read the pet name. I loved this one in particular. It gave off the feeling of familiarity and love and I adored it absolutely. It made me want to come up with a similar pet name for her. However, no matter how much I thought and thought, I could never come up with one that fit. It infuriated me immensely. _I want to see you. It's only fair. You've seen me._

I blushed slightly at her confession as I searched the cabinet for my special mug. After fetching it, I put three spoons of sugar—two more than usual for it was going to be a very long day—and set it on the counter in front of the coffee pot. Leaning my backside on the edge of the counter, I relented and replied, _Fine, but not today. I'll look horrid._

_You could never look 'horrid', Maura. _Another blush adorned my cheeks as my coffee finished itself.

_How would you know? You have no clue as to what I look like._ No cream was in the refrigerator, and I sighed at the development.

I would've told my mother, but she was never around to know that we were out of cream. She was never around enough to know that I got a B+ on a chemistry test last week. She was never around enough to know that I spoke to someone who I've never physically met more than I did Susie, my supposed best friend. She was never around enough to know that I was lonely, and that she was the cause of that. I don't believe it was intentional that she left me alone so much, and I knew it wasn't for lack of love, it was just fact. It was a sad, true fact.

My dismal thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of my phone, and somehow, my thoughts brightened instantaneously. I blinked the little sign of tears out of my eyes and read Jane's message.

_Well, in my imagination, there is no way you can look bad._

_And how do I look in your imagination, exactly? _I asked, as I poured the coffee into the mug. I slowly spun the coffee around with a small spoon and took a small sip. The half-bitter taste assaulted my tongue in a violent yet pleasing manner. I gently set the spoon in the sink and trickled water unto it from the spout.

I grasped the mug's handle softly and padded my way to the lounge area. I immediately switched the closest lamp on before turning on the television and getting comfortable on the sofa across from it.

The phone buzzed violently on the side table and almost knocked into the side of coffee mug which I had placed on it just a second ago. _In my head, you look good._ I chuckled quietly and gazed at the television as I thought of a response. As I tapped in a response, my mind drifted off to _my_ mental image of Jane.

_Long, curly, dark brown hair draped across a muscular and toned, yet feminine figure that was tanned from hours of baseball and fight practice. Dark, luscious brown eyes twinkled with teases and laughter and interest while her thin, pink lips quirked up in slight twitches as she read the words I sent to her every day. Long and dexterous fingers typed a naturally sarcastic response and a chuckle tore itself from her mouth, initiated by her own humor. Lanky yet strong legs crossed over one another as she slouched into her family's couch._

I sighed as the Jane's image paraded itself around my brain. Sometimes, I wished I could see her in person. I wished we could laugh, talk, hang out, everything teenage girls normally did, except _together_. I wished we could be _normal_ friends instead of… whatever we were. It's pretty bad when I don't even know what to call our relationship.

_Why don't I just describe myself? It's easier and will probably deal less damage to my ego, especially at…_ I glanced at the bright green numbers of the DVR's digital clock. I sighed a self-pity sigh before resuming my typing. _3:01 in the morning._

I gently set the phone on my thigh and took hold of my mug. It was childish, but I cherished it so very much. I remember making it at one of those workshop-type kiosks in the mall when I was very young. My mother had thought it strange, but her profession had leaked through slightly and she had bought the mug. It took almost an hour to paint the whole thing a soft lavender color with a dark green lump-like figure—meant to be Bass, but it really hadn't panned out the way I thought it would—a large letter M—for Maura, of course—and a scraggly little flower. I honestly don't remember where the flower came from or what the inspiration for it was.

I remember waiting most of the following week for the phone call that said that the mug was finished baking and when it came, I almost—no, I actually _did_—shriek with excitement. I had my own mug to do whatever with. Until my sophomore year, all I used it for was warm milk and storing my pens. Then I realized how much of a necessity coffee was when you spent most of the night studying because you really had nothing better else to do.

It also helped a lot when trying to get through Grey's Anatomy…

_You're missing the point, Maur Maur… *sigh* How about this: I send you a pic of me, right now, at 3:02 in the morning, and you send me one. A pic for a pic._

I also thoroughly enjoyed it when she put in little action interludes like _sigh, cough, poke _or the like. It made my mental image of her that much more real. I could imagine her sighing or coughing in a sarcastic manner or poking me in the shoulder or the side. I liked it because it felt like she was next to me, talking to me here, in my lounge, instead of 5 states away in Massachusetts.

I thought about it for a few seconds though. A picture in exchange for a picture didn't sound too hateful, and seeing Jane so casually might give me the courage to send one of my own.

_Are you sure you can't wait just a little bit longer? Just until I get enough rest to look even slightly presentable?_

_Yes, Maura, I'm sure._

I sighed, though my weary mind didn't really find anything wrong with the deal.

_Fine, but you go first,_ I quipped with a small smile trickling onto my lips.

It took a while, but eventually the message came through and I couldn't be happier. In all honesty, I didn't think anything could ever live up to the moment when I saw Jane Rizzoli, in all her tired glory, at 3:05 in the morning.

She was lying down in her bed with her phone suspended above her by her arms, with no lighting other than her camera's flash. Her face was really the only thing lit up by said light and every feature on it was accentuated extravagantly. Light bags were forming under her eyes and even though they weren't too dark, they were still noticeable. Her impossibly dark eyebrows furrowed up just the tiniest bit and her still pink lips had an adorable upwards quirk that reminded me of the gondolas that plagued the waterways of Venice, Italy. Her high cheek bones, along with the flash, served to give her cheeks a soft shadow, as well as make her dimples pop out cutely. All of these features were truly show stopping, but what really caught my attention were her eyes. Bright, chocolate-colored irises burst from the whites of her eyes and painted themselves directly on the lens of her phone's camera. They were a swirling pool of emotion, so much so that I actually had to check if what I was looking at was actually a still photo. Her eyes, they spoke to me, but I had no clue what they were saying. I captured a few emotions, like elusive fish swimming in and out of my covetous hands, but they swam away so fast… it was impossible for me to give them a name without having another catch my full attention.

I felt my mouth sag open. How could someone be so impeccably pretty? Correction: how could someone be so impeccably pretty at 3 in the morning? It was impossible. There was no excuse, no reason as to why she was so… so beautiful! No plausible explanation, no thought-up theory… no one could look so breathtaking.

…Could they?

_Now I'm definitely afraid. How could I possibly keep up with someone who looks perfect, even in utter exhaustion? _I quickly sent back, not thinking of the consequences.

_Perfect? _She replied almost immediately, which tells that she had been awaiting my response, most likely eagerly. _I'm far from perfect, Ms. Isles. Thanks though. Anyway, time to uphold your end of the deal._

I was still hesitant, but before I could type anything relaying it, another message from Jane appeared.

_And no but's._

I smiled at her impossible ability to read my mind—how absurd would that be?—before grappling my last inkling of courage, taking a few—okay, I'll admit, I took almost ten—pictures, picking the best one and, lastly, sending it.

My heart was thumping loudly in my throat.

Nervousness.

My hands were slightly clammy.

Anxiety.

My breathing was heavier than I remembered it being a few moments ago.

Adrenaline.

I couldn't hear the television anymore. I couldn't feel the radiant heat of the coffee in my hands anymore. All I focused on was Jane's response.

Minutes passed and I still hadn't received her reaction. Immediately, I felt my insecurity and low self-esteem taking over, but I tried my hardest to let logic command over the thoughts.

Perhaps she had fallen asleep in the time it took for me to pick a good enough picture.

Maybe she had gone to use the restroom.

Or she may have been staring, picking apart my picture just as I had done hers.

Suddenly, my phone signaled a text and I jumped in response. I quickly opened the message and began to read.

_Wow. You said *I* looked good. You look… superb. _

My mouth fell open at her response.

-0-

"You look kind of terrible," Susie muttered softly as she sat down in our shared math class.

It didn't perturb me, however. The prettiest girl I have _ever_ seen in all my life said I looked superb with no sleep. Nothing could get me down. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Stayed up all night texting?" she said, most likely joking.

"Yeah," I whispered wistfully. Susie looked thoroughly shocked.

"Wait, texting, right? Not studying for a maybe-pop quiz? Not waiting for your mom to get home? Texting?" It looked as if she was on the edge of her seat, waiting for my answer.

"Yes, Susie, texting," I replied easily, grabbing my pen and notebook, readying myself to take notes.

"You and that Jane girl sure have gotten close…" she trailed.

I simply smiled.

-0-

Lunch was the same as it always was. The girls around me held easy, pleasant conversation, they would say something wrong, I would correct them, I would get this…_ look_ from them that made me feel lesser somehow, Susie would say something subtle and it would make me feel a little bit better, at least, enough to get through the day. This usually happened two or three times during a single lunch period, but today it only happened once before my phone started buzzing in my side pocket. I got up to go to the restroom and answer a text, but then I realized that the buzzing wasn't short, rapid, but was long and repetitive. My eyes widened in shock that I was getting a phone call. Mother didn't usually call when she was on a business trip and it scared me that I was getting one now.

I was still worried about her, even if I didn't really know her lately.

I whispered a quick "excuse me" before shooting away from the table and almost sprinting to the outside patio. I tore the device from my pants pocket and blindly answered it.

"Hello?" I blurted out, my voice slightly airy from running and my fright.

"Maura?" a rather deep, throaty, slightly raspy yet completely feminine voice answered. My ear registered the seductive sound immediately, however, my brain took a few moments to start working properly again. Tearing the phone from my ear, I stared at the screen.

It was Jane's face, from the picture she sent last night, and it was staring back at me beautifully through my phone's screen.

Jane was calling me.

I took a deep breath to calm myself only took have it taken away yet again when I heard a muffled version of my name come from my phone.

"Jane?" I asked when I brought the receiver back to my ear. "Is that really you?"

"It sure would suck if I wasn't me, Maura," she responded. I chuckled, as did she, and for a moment I forgot where I was. I wasn't at an all-girl school located five states away from Jane, I wasn't in the well-decorated patio of said school, no, I was right next to her, feeling her body heat radiating towards me, her laughs shaking her body, my eyes glued to every part of her.

"Oh, well, uh," I cursed my ineloquence. I removed the phone from my face and threw slews of insults at my stuttering nervousness. "I mean—"

Jane chuckled and whispered, "Sorry, I probably got you at a bad time. I can hang up and call later if you want?"

"No!" I exclaimed almost too quickly, too loudly. "I mean, it not the most ideal time to call, but it's really alright."

She chuckled, thought this time it was more of a breath, again. "Okay then, Doctor."

"Not a doctor," I instantaneously corrected as I took a seat on one of the many patio chairs.

"Do you wanna be a doctor?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to go to school to be a doctor?"

"Although I'd certainly _like_ to go to a prestige medical school, the chances of me being accepted are—"

"_Maura_," she muttered, and I immediately stopped. "Listen, you talk like a doctor, you wanna be a doctor, you're gonna go to school to be, guess what, a doctor. In my book, that's good enough."

I barked out a soft laugh. "So if you broke your leg, someone who spoke like a doctor, wanted to be a doctor and was going to go to school to be a doctor would be good enough for you?"

"No, it only applies to you." She said it with so much seriousness, so much conviction… it made it all the more amusing.

"That makes no sense." I bubbled out, a small smile upon my lips.

"Doesn't have to, Maur Maur." There it was. The special pet name reserved only for me. _Maur Maur._ I squealed internally. Hearing the nickname in her low, throaty voice sent a plethora of shivers down my spine. My breath quickened again and I could barely hold my end of the conversation.

-0-

"So you're at home, all alone, no supervision, nothing?" Jane asked as I lay on my floor, stroking Bass' shell.

"Mmhm," I hummed and smiled as Bass peeked out and stared at me with his sparkling eyes. "Until my mother gets home from her business trip, at least."

"And you're not throwing parties or hanging out with your most likely rich boyfriend?" she prodded and I knew this was her asking more about me without actually asking about me.

"I'm single, Jane, guys aren't exactly excited about my so-called Google Mouth." I complained, though it wasn't in a pompous or narcissistic way, more like self-depreciatingly. But it was okay, because men would only hinder my education and career path. Though I guess it was kind of lonely…

"Hey now," she must've caught unto my self-pitying tone. "I actually like your 'Google Mouth'." I could practically hear the air-quotes. "And screw them if they don't want you just because you're smarter than them. I know plenty of people who would want you to be theirs."

"Oh, really? And who would that be?" I asked, somehow knowing she wouldn't have an answer.

"Um, you know, people," her voice getting softer by the second, I knew she had lost her fire. "People who are totally better than those douche for brains."

"Jane," I chastised. "Watch your language."

"I can't, they aren't subtitles, Maur," Jane sniggered out and I giggled alongside her.

A few moments passed before she spoke again. "So how's the turtle doing?"

I sighed in friendly annoyance. She knew he was an African Spurred Tortoise; she just did that to be… well, her. "My _tortoise_ is doing just fine. Though he's out of strawberries. I'll need to run and get some later."

"Hm… do you know when your mom gets back?" she pondered suddenly.

"Um," I began. "No, it depends on the project she's working on. Neither of us ever knows for sure."

"Well then… maybe I could come over sometime and keep you company while she's away." I think I may have misinterpreted her tone, for I thought for sure that she was joking.

"Jane, we still have school you know." I softly stroked Bass' forehead as he stuck his head further and further.

"I meant during the summer, Maura," she whispered.

And I knew she wasn't joking.


	3. Emotion

**Again, I'm amazed at how much attention this fic has gotten. I mean, it really is fun writing this story, what with the amount of dialogue and just with how the characters are written. I think of it as a semi-challenge because I'm trying to put such full, exuberant characters into their shy, introvert teenage selves and it's all just really fun. Plus I'm glad to see you guys like it, what I'm doing here. It's really a confidence boost.**

**Thank you all,**

**T.**

* * *

"Maybe we should actually send letters during class," I whispered into the receiver. It was dark in the expansive house and I was alone, save for Bass. All in all, it was just a normal Wednesday night.

"We do, Maur," Jane responded, just as quiet, with a slight chuckle to her voice. I loved her voice… it always sounded like she was smiling or laughing. At what, I still don't know.

"I really doubt mindless doodles constitutes as letters, Jane." I fiddled with the patterns on Bass' shell as he munched on spinach leaves and kale. The inconsistent clicking of his mouth on the linoleum floor of the kitchen was the only other sound in the house.

"They're not mindless," she refuted avidly. "I put a lot of effort into those for you." She sounded so modest and vulnerable that I _had_ to take back my words.

I sighed. "You're right. They're actually kind of adorable." Jane chuckled and Bass groaned deep in his throat.

"What the hell was that?" Jane exclaimed into my ear. I pulled the phone away from my ear and could still hear her clearly as she said, "I could hear that over the cell!"

"I must have a good receiver," I offered, bringing the cell closer to my ear.

"A damn good one," she concurred, quieter this time. A moment or two passed before she spoke again. "So really, what was that noise?"

"Oh, it was just Bass." I leaned over and rubbed his shell until his head poked out of its cavern and turned to me. "Hey little guy," I mumbled under my breath as I rubbed the top of his head and wrinkly neck. "How's my baby boy?" He groaned out again before continuing to eat.

"He's a very vocal 'baby boy'," Jane muttered, mainly to uphold conversation.

"That's how he tells me he loves me, Jane," I explained, perhaps with a little sass in my tone.

"It'd be cooler if he actually said the words. Lemme see if I can," she cleared her throat and took on a posh tone, "imitate his low, gravelly tone."

_Please don't, your voice already makes me swoon._ I blushed at the thought and picked at my fingernails as Jane's voice came rumbling out of the speaker.

"I love you, Maura." Her voice was much lower than I've ever heard before, even just after she woke up.

My body shuddered before I burst out laughing, sending Bass back into his shell. "Oh my—"howling laughs escaped my throat, blocking my sentence. "I can't believe you just—"

Jane was laughing along with me, just as loud as far as I could tell, through the phone.

It took about 15 minutes for us to sober up and continue talking.

Suddenly, a rather important thought came to mind.

"Were you really serious about coming over during the summer?" I asked, my tone completely serious.

"Well… I mean… if it's," she sighed and I heard a soft smacking sound. "I dunno. Would it be too weird?" A half moment passed before she blurted out, "I'm not a middle aged man, I promise."

A sharp laugh shot out of my mouth. "Oh, so you're a middle aged woman?" I joked.

"No! I promise!" she exclaimed and I went into another fit of laughter, albeit this one a lot less raucous. "Jeez, Maura," she groaned before continuing. "I mean, if it would be too awkward, no. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Well, there's not much to do here," I muttered, still hesitant about the situation. It wasn't that I didn't trust her, because I did, it was just… perhaps she was right. What if she bought a plane ticket to come down here and it turns out that our relationship is better off long distance? What if all we did was sit in a room awkwardly and watch television? There were so many 'What if's' about it all that terrified me. I didn't want Jane to think I was boring in real life.

"You could never be boring, Maur Maur," Jane whispered into the phone. I hadn't meant to say that aloud. "You're probably the most interesting person I know." A moment passed. "No, you're definitely the most interesting person I know. That's mainly because you're not a blue-collar Italian."

"Aren't you a 'blue-collar Italian'?" I asked as I handfed Bass a strawberry for desert.

"Yes, but _I'm _interesting," she explained.

"Or so you hope," I teased, scratching Bass' scaly head.

"Oh, I know I'm interesting." Her voice took on a pompous tone and I smiled at her antics.

"I suppose you're okay," I whispered, the smile still large on my face.

"Oh please, I'm the highlight of your day."

I didn't reply, mainly because it was one hundred percent true.

-0-

"Okay, say you _do_ buy a plane ticket to Virginia," I muttered as I stared out the window at the passing scenery. Trees, brush and the occasional property-lining fence whizzed by the tinted windows of the black Audi. Katherine, my personal driver, was nice enough not to make her eavesdropping too apparent.

"You _do_ but a plane ticket to Virginia," Jane repeated, trying to make this morning a lot more humorous than it was. Staying up late—yet again—was definitely going to take a toll on my health one day, but having it all go to Jane was absolutely worth it. She really was the highlight of my day, just like she had said.

I chuckled slightly before taking the phone from my ear and leaning into the space between the two front seats. "Katherine, do you think we have time to stop for coffee?" Katherine smiled—she was a rather quiet person by nature, only adding her two cents when absolutely necessary—before taking a right, instead of the left that would lead to the school campus, and navigating to town. I smiled in silent thanks and returned my attention to my phone call.

"Two things caught my attention: Katherine and coffee." Something akin to jealousy tainted her tone, causing my eyebrows to furrow. My fingers fumbled with the upholstery on the inside of the door as she continued. "Who's Katherine?"

Feeling mischievous, I immediately began to tease her. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" She huffed and I imagined her hands on her hips as she retorted.

"I am not jealous. I'm just curious is all." Her voice got quieter as her sentence dragged on and I felt kind of bad for teasing her.

"She's my driver." I felt awkward for saying it, knowing that Jane came from a different demographic than myself or my family. How many teenage girls had a personal chauffeur? Actually, only a few other girls others, excluding myself, had a chauffeur, and they were usually shared by the girls' parents.

"Like, a chauffeur? Like… Driving Miss Daisy and all that jazz?" Her voice wasn't demeaning or picking fun, but was honestly curious.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Maura," Katherine called my attention from the front seat as she looked at me through the rear-view mirror. "We're here. Would you like your regular?"

"Yes please, Katherine, thank you," I took out my wallet from my purse and handed her the money for the drink. She waved it off and I smiled. Katherine was the older sister I never had and always secretly wanted.

"Oh, so you're taking Spanish, right?"

"No, French," I put the wallet back in my purse and crossed my legs as Katherine ordered our coffees. "And Latin," I added after a moment.

"Oh," she whispered, sounding slightly disappointed. "I was gonna ask for your help but—"

"What is it? Susie takes Spanish and it's possible I could've picked up on something." The feeling through the phone changed immediately. I always found it weird that I could _feel_ Jane's… _aura_ through the phone, especially since we had never met. After a while, though, I guess I just got used to it.

"Ser and Estar. I'm having trouble with them." Jane was always inexplicably vague.

"What kind of trouble?" I mouthed Katherine yet another 'Thank you' as she handed me my iced caramel macchiato.

"Like, what's the difference?"

"Um," I set my hand to my forehead and rubbed gently, trying my hardest to conjure up something knowledgeable of the Spanish language. "Let's see… the infinitive verbs 'Ser' and 'Estar' are both... to be, I believe."

"Yeah," Jane offered, sounding preoccupied.

"'Ser' is, I think—don't hold me to any of this—for the date, characteristics, time, origin of something, relation of someone to someone else and… Man, what is it? I'm missing something…"

"Occupation, Maura," Katherine suggested.

I snapped my fingers in recognition and thanked her. "That's it, occupation. 'Estar' is used for temporary things; condition, location of something, what someone's doing and how someone's feeling."

"Thank God for your brain, Maur Maur," Jane whispered before a rustling of papers was heard.

A few moments of silence passed as I processed what had just occurred. "Did you just use me for your homework, Jane?" I asked, cocking my head, pursing my lips and tapping my fingers as if she were right next to me.

A second of silence before Jane mutters something.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Kind of, I guess…" she whispered and I heard a honking in the background. "Hey, look Maura, mom's ready to go so I gotta go. Okay? Okay, love you, bye." She disconnected so fast I couldn't possibly argue. I sipped on my beverage as I slowly processed Jane's last words.

A solid minute of sipping and gazing lazily out of the window passed before her words dug their way through the early morning haze of my brain.

I almost spit the coffee out of my and onto the leather upholstery of Katherine's car.

"Oh, my—Maura, are you okay?" Katherine asked worriedly as I swallowed the coffee and sputtered about.

"Um, yeah, I think so." I thought of an excuse. A lie would not help this situation. "I just, uh, swallowed wrong, that's all."

She gave me worried looks until I got out of the car at the school campus.

-0-

Holy shit, that did not just happen. I did not just tell Maura I loved her. That was not reality. That was a fantasy, a mere conjuring of my hormonal, teenage brain. After that, according to the fantasy, one of us would immediately buy a plane ticket to the other's home state and had hot, desperate sex until we couldn't breathe or stand. After we regained our breath and strength, we would go at it again. Then we would run away like two star-crossed lovers and live our lives as Janet and Maurice.

…Or not. That's totally cool too.

I leaned back in the front passenger seat as Tommy and Frankie slid into the back two seats of Ma's sedan.

"Was that the infamous Maura you were talking to, Janie?" Ma asked, backing out of the driveway and speeding towards my school. Mine was closer, so I got dropped of sooner, which also meant less morning conversation.

"Yeah," I responded, not really wanting to divulge anything more.

"I heard her say she loves her before hanging up!" Tommy, ever the dense blabbermouth, squealed. Frankie turned and punched him solidly on the upper arm as I swiveled around in my seat to glower at him. I didn't bother with looking at my Ma; she and I had a long conversation a long time ago about my sexuality and although I knew she didn't particularly like it when I came home with a potential girlfriend, she didn't kick me out and she didn't murder anybody (yet) so we kind of reached a stable block in our relationship about it. The block didn't bend back and forth, threatening to tip us both over and cause a ruckus, but gave us an unwavering space to prance around in.

"Jane, you shouldn't rush into things head first." I swung back around and faced the front. "You haven't met her yet."

"I know, Ma, it was on accident." It was true. I really hadn't meant to say it to her, not ever, it just kind of slipped out and spilled onto the ears of the angel on the other end of the line. Not my fault, I think. "I meant to say it to Jo." Okay, that was more of a lie, but it was excusable.

"Just remember, not everyone is like you." The whisper was innocent enough, but it still struck a very tight, very high-pitched chord inside my heart. It reassured me that I was still an outsider, still different, still not normal, no matter how much I tried.

The rest of the car ride was silent until I opened the door and snatched my backpack off of the floorboard before slamming the car door closed and dashing into the school, not responding to my Ma's attempts at goodbye.

Maybe our block wasn't so stable after all…

-0-

"Hey, Jane, what's up?" Riley Cooper, my closest friend in the school sidled up to me, falling perfectly into step beside me.

"Oh, nothing much," I began with a mocking tone to my voice. "Just accidentally told my damn pen pal I loved her before hanging up, only to have it pointed out in the car by my shit of a little brother." Riley scowled before breaking out into a grin.

"You told her you loved her?" Giggles escaped her mouth before I could correct her. "Damn, Jane, I knew you were trigger-happy, but don't you think that's goin' a little too far too fast?"

"It was on accident, you ass," I grouched, pushing her in the shoulder. We headed towards the locker room, where we'd drop off our sports bags and probably stay until the bell rung.

"Accident or not, you still said it." The smile didn't fall from her face until a few moments later, halfway to the locker room. "What did your mom say about it?"

Riley knew about my situation at home, with the whole sexuality business. She was the only other person I had entrusted other than my family.

I smiled self-depreciatingly and watch my feet as we slowly walked. "She said I should keep in mind that not everyone is like me." I raised my gaze and tightened my jaw, ready for Riley's reaction.

A few moments passed before she said anything. "You wanna crash at mine tonight?"

I would've said yes had it not been for a nagging voice in my head telling me that is wasn't Riley I wanted to vent to.

-0-

The school day passed by slowly without my usual texts from Maura. That's wrong. It passed by slowly without my usual responses. She had texted me multiple times throughout the day, but I hadn't replied to any of them. I was too afraid I'd say something stupid again.

Stupid like 'I love you'.

It was a constant thought in my head, whether at the forefront of it or the back, through the whole damn day. I mean, who the hell tells their pen pal turned friend—I guess that's what we are—that they love them? Yes, if it was their best friend, I could understand, but we barely know each other. No, that's not right… we just haven't met each other. We know a lot about each other—enough to know that I really, really wanted to go to her house this summer. And before you just assume that I had romantic ulterior motives, I didn't. I really just wanted to keep her company while her mom was gone. She seemed like a pretty lonely girl. You know, except for Bass the Turtle/Tortoise, but something tells me that he isn't much of a conversationalist.

I tugged my phone out of my pocket and opened the multitude of texts from Maura as I made my way to the girls' locker room. I smiled softly at her contact picture, the only one she's ever sent me, and touched it with my thumb. She really was exquisite and she really did take my breath away, but hell if I was ever going to tell her that. Most of my friends had stopped all contact after I told them about me being… um, yeah. Riley was the one that was really cool with it. She invited me over, sat with me at lunch, all that friendly stuff. Truth be told, I was pretty sure she was… on my team, but I definitely didn't have a knack for knowing those things about people. Other than her, though, I didn't have many friends. In fact, she was my only friend besides Maura, and Maura would probably ditch me too if I told her. I was surprised she was talking to me now after what I had said.

Finally gathering the gall, I pressed the little phone symbol next to Maura's name and photo. I pressed the phone to my ear and waited for her to pick up.

One dial tone.

Two dial tones.

Three dial tones.

Four.

Five dial tones and I was losing hope fast. _Pick up, please, Maur Maur, please pick up._

"Hello?" Her smooth voice broke through the speaker and I let out a breath of relief.

"Maur Maur," I whispered with a smile on my lips. If she hadn't wanted to speak to me, she wouldn't have picked up. She must not hate me. "I'm sorry I didn't answer your texts today. I—"

"You worried me," she interrupted, her voice slightly stern, but more offended than anything. "I thought I said something wrong this morning and you didn't want to talk to me anymore."

"What?" I exclaimed. How could anything _wrong_ come out of Maura 'Perfect Angel from God's Own Hand' Isles' mouth? "That's insane." I wasn't focusing on where I was going and almost ran right into Stephanie, the volleyball team's captain.

"Watch it, Gayzzoli!" she barked out, just quiet enough so it wouldn't be investigated by any passing teachers.

"Buff my shit, you dick lick." To my defense, Stephanie wasn't the nicest person.

Stephanie flipped me off before walking away, probably to sneak in a quickie before practice started.

"Pardon, but what was that?" Maura asked, still sounding offended.

"Nothing, Maur," I mumbled as I retraced our conversational steps. "Maura, I thought I was the one who said something wrong this morning."

A laugh came from her end. "Jane, there's nothing wrong with love."


End file.
